he joy of
apparent opposition, drank to the king in private, and made himself
merry over the men who sturdily accepting loss for conscience's sake,
sat at meals on their kitchen chairs, silently unresistant, but, if
human, a little sorrowful concerning the silver which came over with
Penn and was their only material reminder of the Welsh homes their
fathers had left that they might worship God in their own simple way.

The one person Langstroth loved was his great-niece, of whose attachment
to the German he was jealous with that keen jealousy known to those who
are capable of but one single love. He had meant to annoy her mother;
and, with no least idea that he would win a prize for her child, was now
vexed at Margaret's want of gratitude, and well pleased with the fuss
there would be when the news got out and Friends came to hear of it.

When Pearl threw herself into the mother's arms and broke into tears,
sobbing out the double story, for a moment Mrs. Swanwick was silent.

"My dear," she said at last, "why didst thou let them dress thee?"

"I--I could not help it, and--and--I liked it, mother. Thou didst like
it once," she added, with a look of piteous appeal. "Don't scold me,
mother. Thou must have liked it once."

"I, dear? Yes, I liked it. But--scold thee? Do I ever scold thee? 'T is
but a small matter. It will be the talk of a week, and Gainor Wynne will
laugh, and soon it will be forgotten. The lottery is more serious."

"But I did not do it."

"No."

"They will blame thee, mother, I know--when it was all my uncle's doing.
Let them talk to him."

The widow smiled. "Nothing would please him better; but--they have long
since given up Josiah for a lost sheep--"

"Black, mother?" She was a trifle relieved at the thought of an
interview between Friend Howell, the gentlest of the gentle, and Josiah.

"Brown, not black," said the mother, smiling. "It will someway get
settled, my child. Now go early to bed and leave it to thy elders. I
shall talk of it to Friend Schmidt."

"Yes, mother." Her confidence in the German gentleman, now for five
years their guest, was boundless.

"And say thy prayers with a quiet heart. Thou hast done no wrong. Good
night, my child. Ask if Friend de Courval wants anything. Since her son
went away, she has been troubled, as who would not be. Another's real
cause for distress should make us feel how small a matter is this of
ours." She kissed her again, and the girl went slowly u